What's the best prescription for fixing a lackluster sex life? Our intrepid reporter asked a renowned expert. See if her surprising cure could work for you (no little blue pills required)

SLOWLY BUT SURELY we put each of Herbenick's suggestions to the test. Sometimes we followed just one of them (like the explorative, which meant incorporating at least four or five sexual acts in one session: oral on her, oral on me, vaginal, breast touching, toy play, genital touching, and so on). And some days we would unconsciously follow several tips, like doing an activity together along with nonsexual touching and chores. Still, there was no profound connection, no tears.

But something had changed in me. I wasn't going for tears anymore. With the idea of taking the pressure off, I had made a point of relinquishing expectations, including any lofty, teary goals. It is notable that we were indeed having less sex. But if no one was counting, then neither one of us cared.

Sometimes we would just roll around and laugh. Sometimes we would rub each other's backs. By setting the goal of a superintense emotional experience every time, I had set us up for failure. She told me once, "Sometimes, I want it to be just a rollicking good time..."

Point taken. From then on there was a new goal: to have fun (in bed or otherwise) with the person we loved. After all, that is exactly what a healthy relationship is supposed to be: fun.

And did it work? I'll tell you.

But first, let me expound on the wonders of lube. Of all the suggestions, personal lubricant had the most surprising outcome. We each felt it was unnecessary—we're only in our mid-30s!—and I suppose for us it is. But many of the best things in life are unnecessary. Lube changes the way sex feels, and in a very good way.

Of the three types we've tried, we each have a favorite. I like the friction-less feel of silicone-based lube, while she prefers the water-based lubricant, which feels more natural. Neither of us really cares for the "natural stimulating lubricant" that is supposed to heighten sensitivity, but it was fun to try. My advice: Buy any and all lube that intrigues you, and make a night of it. Some will work for you and others might not, but slipping and sliding around with someone you care for is never a bad move.

Not every suggestion worked. The coital alignment technique, for instance—a version of the missionary position in which the man shifts his body upward to make the base of his penis align with her clitoris—felt awkward and not pleasurable for either of us. The vibrator seemed like it would be a fun experiment—and it was. But ultimately it did not bring increased pleasure. It felt too artificial and mechanical.

But it was important that we tried, because in trying we found what succeeded for us. And the very act of experimenting with each other was fun and brought us closer. Sexperiments are quite possibly the key to better sex.

SO, THEN, did it work?

One evening after a long day, we met back at our apartment. She had just been out for a run around the park (that's 1 behavior), and I was making dinner. We told each other about the funny things that had happened during our respective days and the articles we'd read and liked. We cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes (a little 8), not together exactly, but with the same goal: some time to relax with each other. We had no other plans and no pressure. We moved slowly. I touched her. She touched me. There was no rush, just the two of us enjoying being together. It had a bit of a 4 feel to it. We played around with one kind of lube (good old 3) and then another. After some time, we were hurtling along the sex slip 'n' slide.

It would have been great sex whether it was a rollicking good time or a serious, meditative, profound experience. It would have been great sex whether it was a long, slow marathon or an intense sprint. In fact, it was a little of all those things. When we finished, we were sitting facing each other. I had one hand on her back, and she had one hand on mine. We stared at each other for only a second before she fell backward onto the mattress—and started crying. But she wasn't just crying; she was laughing too.

This time I knew what I had done. We had set aside time for us—not just a night, but everyday time. We had removed expectations of frequent, raucous sex and replaced them with intentions of making the other person happy. We had begun to build a solid foundation for our relationship. All of these things are ingredients for a better sex life.